


Ratatouille

by Taverl



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, Ficlet, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:13:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taverl/pseuds/Taverl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is pet-sitting. Bones is not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ratatouille

**Author's Note:**

> A little tidbit inspired by pictures of Chris Pine and Karl Urban posted as part of the Jim and Bones LJ community's Daily Captain Daily Doctor Feature in October, 2011.
> 
> http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/504886.html#cutid1
> 
> Locked comm. Join to enjoy the prettiness.
> 
> Thanks to Cathy for beta and the lovely ladies of J&B for their support and feedback.

"Ratatouille"  
by Octavian

Jim was a dead man.

“Are you quite finished?” Len asked, glaring at his boyfriend as his laughter gradually ebbed. Jim’s body still shook with barely-restrained chuckles as he smiled up at Len from where he sat on the kitchen floor.

“Oh, Bones, I will *never* be finished with this one.” His smile got impossibly wider as he shook his head. “I can’t believe you climbed onto the counter…” his voice trailing off as he started to laugh again. “I swear, it’s like something out of a cartoon! All that’s missing was the house dress and high heels.” Another pause as he visibly tried to control himself again, “You think they make pumps in size fifteen?”

Watching Jim howl at his own joke, Len felt his scowl deepening. “No, but I’ve got boots that size, and I’ll stick one of ‘em up your ass if you don’t stop being such an infant.”

“I swear you screamed like a girl,” Jim said, his amusement apparently knowing no bounds. “Admit it, Bones, you totally overreacted to our little houseguest here,” he continued, watching as their “houseguest” skittered over the linoleum, sniffing curiously under the counters.

“It’s a *rat*, Jim. In my book, that makes it a pest, not a guest. And what the hell is it doing here anyway?” His eyes followed the gray rodent’s movements suspiciously. “And don’t let it run ‘round like that! If it gets into the cupboards, it’ll probably crap all over everything.”

Jim crawled over and gently gathered up the rat, scratching its head as he settled back against the wall. “It’s not an “it,” it’s a “he,” and his name is Remy.” As Len watched in horrified fascination, Remy crawled up Jim’s arm to his shoulder, whiskers twitching as he sniffed around Jim’s neck and ear.

Jim giggled as the rat’s whiskers tickled his face and Len inched towards the edge of the counter. “Damn it, Jim, be careful! That thing’s probably got rabies,” he said as his mind began cataloging all the possible diseases the animal carried.

Slowly pulling the rat back onto his lap, Jim gave a bark of laughter. “Oh, God, Bones, stop being such a paranoiac! It’s a pet, not some kind of vermin. He’s had all his shots and is a perfectly healthy domesticated brown rat. Aren’t you, Remy?” He held the rat up to his face, touching noses with the little animal and scrunching up his face in an attempt to mimic Remy’s twitching nose.

“It’s gray,” was the first thought out of Len’s mouth, quickly followed by, “I swear to God, Jim, if you kiss that thing, your lips will never come within a hundred feet of mine again.”

Rolling his eyes, Jim put the rat back down on his lap. “I know he’s gray, but Carol said that his variety or species or whatever is brown rat.”

Len stopped staring at the rat and looked up at Jim. “Carol? Why the hell did your ex-girlfriend give you a rat?” Len and Carol actually become friends in the two years he and Jim had been together, but he’d never known her to give people rodents.

“She’s out of town this week and the neighbor who was going to take care of Remy broke her leg and is bedridden,” Jim explained. “She just got him a month ago and didn’t want to leave him alone for so long, so I told her we’d be happy to take care of the little guy.”

“’We?’” Len quoted. “I can’t recall the conversation where I agreed to rat-sit, Jim. Care to refresh my memory?” His irritation at being startled by the little beast as he stumbled blearily into the kitchen that morning was quickly being replaced by irritation with his boyfriend. Considering Jim’s regular antics, it was almost nice being back in familiar territory.  


Jim held up a placating hand. “She just asked me last night while you were at work and I made an executive decision.” He tilted his head as he stared at Len, a small smile on his lips. “I’m sorry for not asking you, but considering you were finishing a double in the ER, I decided not to bother you with it. I was going to tell you this morning, but of course you had to break with tradition and get up before me.”

Jim stood and crossed to the counter to stand in front of Len. “It’s my fault he startled you since I apparently didn’t close the cage door properly last night.” Holding Remy in his left hand, he extended his right. “So, now that you know he’s not carrying the Black Death, would you please get off of the counter?”

Staring at Jim’s hand, Len grumbled, “Wash your hands first.” He scooted forward until his legs dangled over the edge. Jim stepped closer and Len’s knees automatically tightened around Jim’s hips.

Leaning in, Jim gave him a quick peck on the lips, then moved back, smiling. “Fine. Hold Remy,” Jim said, dropping the rat in Len’s lap.

“Damn it, Jim!” Len shouted as Jim walked towards the sink, chuckling, and Remy walked up Len’s arm, chittering.

Jim was a dead man.


End file.
